Fay Vincent: Red Sox hero Pesky is worthy of Hall of Fame

When a wonderful old baseball hero like Johnny Pesky dies, I am thrust back to those warm summer and uncomplicated days of my youth — when playing baseball in the neighborhood sandlots or listening to Mel Allen and Red Barber call Yankees-Red Sox games was how I spent most of my waking hours.

I knew Pesky well and was saddened by the news of his death this past week at the age of 92.

He came to the Red Sox in 1942 when I was a 4-year-old, so I followed his career with all the focus of a child whose world was centered on baseball.

Pesky was a fine player and an even better gentleman.

Along with his close friends Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr and Dom DiMaggio, Pesky was at the core of those fine Red Sox teams that challenged the Yankees for the American League pennant during the 1940s and into the 1950s. And while Boston prevailed only in 1946, Pesky fashioned a superb career and, in my view, warranted election to the Hall of Fame.

Williams and Doerr made it to the Hall, but Pesky and Dom DiMaggio have been overlooked.

The case for Pesky centers more on his .307 lifetime batting average, than his play in the field.

He experienced the full range of ups and downs during his playing days, including a tough stretch when he committed four errors against St. Louis in that 1946 World Series.

It was Pesky's sense of humor and perspective that helped him battle through that adversity, only to be accused of "holding the ball" when Enos Slaughter scored all the way from first base for the Cardinals' winning run in the pivotal eighth-inning of the seventh game.

That stunning Series finish put the blame squarely on Pesky.

Many said he froze while trying to make the relay throw home that ended up being too late to catch the irrepressible Slaughter at the plate. Because the Red Sox never returned to the World Series until his career was done, the miscue unfortunately became the focal play of Pesky's career.

For the rest of his long life, Pesky was left to explain what had happened on that ill-fated play.

Teammates Williams and DiMaggio would later go out of their way to defend Pesky to me, and Doerr was equally supportive.

All three refused to blame poor Pesky.

I felt several unfortunate events conspired to permit Slaughter to get away with his bold play.

Most importantly, DiMaggio had hurt his leg sliding into second base in the top of the eighth inning of the Series final, and was forced to leave the game in favor of a backup outfielder Leon Culberson. Like his brother Joe, DiMaggio had a powerful throwing arm and was a superb fielder, so his absence was

significant when Slaughter decided to boldly dash for home.

In addition, DiMaggio explained to me that Cardinals outfielder Harry "The Hat" Walker had a strong tendency to hit to left-center field. Thus, DiMaggio would have played him that way and would have reacted quicker to get the outfield relay throw to Pesky.

Moreover, Slaughter would long after tell me that he — and his Cardinal teammates — had great respect for DiMaggio's arm and even admitted to Dom he would have held at third had he been in the game.

Williams expanded the defense of Pesky by explaining that Culberson was soft-spoken, and that his attempt to alert Pesky that Slaughter was heading for home was drowned out by the home crowd noise. To his credit, Williams also admitted his own failure to hit in the Series — he batted just .200 with no home runs and only one RBI — as the real reason for the team's demise.

It only got worse for Pesky, though, telling me he went home to Oregon after the Series and later attended the football game between Oregon and Oregon State played that year in a torrential downpour. Each team fumbled often and as Pesky left his seat at halftime a fan recognized him and said, "Hey, there's Johnny Pesky, let's give him the ball — he'll hold onto it."

For a proud and talented professional athlete it should have been a painful moment, but Johnny was amused as he told the story, for he knew baseball is a game of failures, as well as successes.

Johnny Pesky was a superb friend and gracious man, who was beloved by the Red Sox fans — and by me.

Fay Vincent is a former Major League Baseball commissioner and a Vero Beach resident.